


The white collar

by Elvesinmyheart



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Collars, Comeplay, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Father/Son Incest, First Time, Hair-pulling, Incest, Light Angst, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Parent/Child Incest, Possessive Sex, Power Play, Restraints, Safewords, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Toys, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6773725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesinmyheart/pseuds/Elvesinmyheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[EDIT: Uni is killing me. Third chapter will come but I have no idea when. It still needs some editing. I'm sorry.]</p><p>While on the search for something that explains the strain between him and his father, Legolas comes across Thranduil's collection of toys. He finds something in there that makes his blood boil and before he realizes it, he is acting on the most stupiest idea of his entire life.</p><p>Heed the tags!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not part of my smut-snippet series and written as a stand-alone. I just needed to get my mind on something else than Uni-stuff and writing this was a perfect distraction. The second chapter will follow in a few days. :) <3  
> Also collars! I L-O-V-E collars.  
> Have fun! :)
> 
> Thanks to Malind for beta reading again. Really, my stuff would be so shitty and full of mistakes without her.
> 
> In case you are interested which song looped while I wrote this:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3amkowHJmc

_One confession is such perfection  
Your sweet repression can't hide who you really are_

_Say you love it_  
Say you hate it  
Doesn't matter 'cause you're all the same 

Say you want it  
Say you need it  
Come and get it 'cause we love the shame

 

 

~*~

Peace lies over Greenwood, yet the prince of the great forest feels unsettled. It's not that he is unhappy, his life diverse and full of responsibilities, yet he can't explain the strain that lies between him and his father. The more years that pass, the bigger the gap between them seems to get. He doesn't understand why. He is a good son. Always obedient, trying desperately to make his father happy after his mother passed away so many centuries before, but Thranduil's heart remains distant and closed. It gnaws on him to the point where he decides he can't bear it any longer and has to do something about it.

That's how he finds himself rummaging around in Thranduil's private possessions in his sleeping chambers, hoping to find something in there that explains his father's coldness. Maybe a journal or something else. He doesn't know. It is wrong what he is doing, invading his father's privacy like this, and he is already about to leave when a wooden box in the corner of Thranduil's wardrobe catches his attention. He opens it, and his eyes grow wide with the realization of what's in there. Legolas has little experiences in the matters of the bedroom, yet he knows from tales that these things in the box are toys. Sex toys. Wooden shaped penises in different sizes, handcuffs, leather ropes, and things he doesn't even know, but are clearly meant to give or withhold pleasure. His heart speeds up, throat running impossibly dry, while he imagines his father using these on his lovers or even on himself, when he's alone. It's like the box sucks him in, and he fishes around in it, strangely addicted, until he sees a flash of white. He takes it out and eyes it curious. 

It's a white collar with a metallic leash attached to its front. And it's a beautiful one with delicate ornaments of leaves and creatures of the forest. Truly a piece of art. He turns it and then his heart stops, eyes growing wide with realization. There, in the most beautiful imprint he has ever seen, is written his name. It says _'My little Greanleaf'_. He swallows, is barely able to breathe. His throat feels raw with sudden dryness, and his hands start to tremble. Why would his father possess such a thing with his name on it? Is this why he remains so distant? Does he have secret fantasies of him wearing this thing? The idea alone makes him swoon, and he needs a moment to sit down and breathe. Then, strangely fascinated, Legolas takes a closer look. The collar looks new, unused, not a single sign of wearing on it. The youth doesn't know what to make of this. 

Legolas has had dreams, dirty ones, and was sometimes bold enough to touch himself under the light of day to the imaginings of his father defiling him, but had never even started to think of acting on them. Incest is a sin and forbidden within their kin, yet his father is a creature of such beauty and elegance, such that no one is able to resist his attraction. Not even his own son.

His mind is flooded with images of wearing nothing but the collar, while Thranduil claims him atop the royal throne. He gasps lewdly, arousal spreading through his body, and he comes up with a ridiculous plan. He places the wooden box back where it belongs, just taking the collar with him and steals himself back to his own rooms. There he changes into something with a higher neckline and, with trembling hands, puts the collar around his neck. The leash he twists around his neck. The collar fits as if it is truly made for him. His fingers trace over the beautiful ornaments, and he eyes himself into the mirror. Normally, he isn't vain, having inherited none of his father's narcissistic arrogance, but, with the tight fitting silver tunic, he finds himself pretty. Quickly, before he is able to change his mind again, he hides the collar and leash under the neckline of the tunic, buttoning it closed, and makes his way back through the halls, this time heading for the royal throne. 

It is dumb. The dumbest idea he has ever had in his entire life, fear welling up inside him, but it is too late now. He is already approaching the platform and is in Thranduil's view. If he turns now, it will look suspicious and his father will call after him, discovering the collar sooner or later. He wills his heart to a place where he isn't in danger of passing out and forces his legs to work. When he comes to a stand before the throne, his father greets him, confusion in his voice since the hour is late. Normally his son never seeks him out in the night, knowing that his father embraces the solitude of the empty halls to brood over matters regarding the kingdom.

Standing here now and looking up to the king in his throne makes him feel like he has lost his mind. Actually, he has and for a second considers whether or not jumping off the platform and dying from the fall is an option. It would save him from the refusal he fears so much. He feels ashamed of himself. Then again, neither of them seem entirely without sin, and, if he has read everything wrong, at least then he has an answer to the question of whether or not his father has a secret affinity for him. 

It takes all his courage to will his hands to work, but he starts to unbutton the tunic he wears, starting with the highest buttons which cover the collar. He is not brave enough to look his father in the eyes, but his father's sharp intake of breath causes every tiny hair on his body to stand on end. He continues unbuttoning, until the tunic hangs loose and falls from his shoulders. Then his breeches and boots follow. The leash he unwinds from his neck, letting it trail down his front to touch the ground. He is semi-hard, his nervousness affecting him, and, when he is nude and lifts his gaze, he is trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

Thranduil stares at him. His face is unreadable, as it so often is, but his knuckles are white with the forceful grip he has on the armrests of his throne. The view is clearly affecting him, but Legolas cannot tell if it's a good or bad thing. Then, being not yet dismissed, he clings to the tiny hopeful part that is still in him. It is too late to back out anyway. 

Greatly daring, the young elf sinks to his knees in a show of utter submission and bows his head, speaking with a quiet but strong voice: "I am here to serve you, my king. Please accept me."

Silence. For several minutes, all he hears is the distant lulling sound of the inner waterfalls and the blood rushing through his ears, heating his cheeks. The air is thick around him. He feels like fainting, but then his father speaks with his even and deep voice. 

"Approach," he simply says, and Legolas swallows hard, having not expected to come this far at all. While he stands again and unsteady walks to the steps leading up to the antlered throne, his eyes flicker to Thranduil's parted legs. His silver robes part just a few inches under the waistband of his trousers, leaving his crotch visible. The youth's heart skips a beat when he sees it's tented. 

So it's true. His father desires him. The realization makes his knees weak, and he nearly falls over. When he arrives on the last step, he straightens up. The chilly air in the room and the eyes raking over his nude form let goosebumps bloom over his entire skin. He is trembling, and his eyes are squeezed shut now. He can't bring himself to look into his father's eyes when he is so near. The shame nearly drowns him. 

His heart leaps in his throat when he hears the noise of rustling clothing, his father moving apparently, and then the leash in front of the collar is taken. He is tugged forward by it and lands in his father's lap, eyes opening with the sudden shock of the contact and he parts his legs around his father's hip, settling down on his crotch. He feels his hard member through the fabric and the hard flesh makes this whole thing all too real suddenly. 

The youth shudders violently, the possibility of what may occur now too much to wrap his head around. His father's eyes are glazed over, and his pupils are dark, looking like ink is spilled in them. Legolas whimpers, desperately trying to calm himself down.

"You are very bold, my child," Thranduil begins, his voice smooth but it thunders through Legolas' whole being, then says, "Presenting yourself to me like this and wearing my collar."  
One of his father's hands settles on his thighs, stroking it, the other still holding the leash. 

"Why are you doing this?" his father wants to know and tilts his head.

Legolas fights for words but none will come out. His throat is too tight, and he isn't able to swallow down the lump in it. The hand on the leash wanders up to his neck, tracing over the collar and settling under the curtain of his hair where Legolas feels a pressure that forces him to bend forward. His face is now just a few inches apart from his father's, and he can't help but stare at his slightly parted, bow-shaped lips. The gap that lies between them is more tempting than anything he has ever seen. The young elf licks his lips, wetting them unconsciously for his father to claim them.

"Do you desire to be claimed by me, Ion nín?" the king asks too casually, like commenting on the weather.

"Yes, Ada," Legolas voices without thinking, and the last word comes out as a needy and lewd moan. 

Thranduil smirks then, and the hand on Legolas' neck fists into his hair. Legolas' spine arches, his lips part, and his father's tongue is in his mouth before he knows what is happening. His senses are instantly flooded with the smell and taste of his father, and he mewls sweetly, pressing further into the warm body. He can't believe this is happening. The king swallows all of the noises he makes, and he starts squirming, head dizzy with endorphins. Every time their tongues touch, tiny sparks of lightning sizzle through his veins, and, all too soon, Thranduil parts from him with a final nip to his bottom lip. 

"Ada," he moans again, and Thranduil chuckles. Legolas feels so pathetic but he simply doesn't know what he is supposed to do, having zero experience in the pleasures of the flesh. But then his father's expression gets serious, and he catches his son's chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. 

"Think carefully if you truly want this, Legolas. It will alter our relationship forever. You can still go, and we will never speak of this again."

"If this is the reason why your heart remained closed to me, then I will gladly participate in this," the youth answers, breathless.

"My child..." Thranduil begins softly, "My heart remained closed merely to protect you from my depravity, but, as far as I see, I am not the only one with a sin."

Relief washes through Legolas' system, finally having the confession of the true reason for their strain, and it lifts his heart beyond anything he dared to imagine. 

His father's eyes flicker through the halls and it seems that he is overthinking the situation. His mouth wanders to Legolas' ear and he speaks lowly: "As appealing as it is to continue this here, I want to relocate this to my chambers, where I can have you properly without worrying about getting caught." Thranduil kisses the tip of his ear and then locks eyes with him again, gazing fiercely. "I will make you scream for me."

The youth shudders and nods, wiggling backwards off his father's lap to get up, but Thranduil is faster and slings one hand under his arms and the other under his knees. With his cheeks flaming hot, Legolas is carried like an innocent maiden through the pathways of the palace, somewhere in his hazy mind remembering that he has to come back later to pick up his clothing before the halls stir. 

Thranduil lies him down onto countless cushions of silk and the velvet sheets of his bed and stands then, eyeing his nude child with the gaze of a hungry cat. Legolas swallows when Thranduil's eyes narrow and his lips stretch into a dark half smile. Thranduil rounds the bed, one hand gripping the leash. A clicking noise sounds and the youth realizes that the leash is now fastened to a hidden hook on the bedpost to his right. It's still long enough to give him room for movement but he won't leave this bed. The realisation makes him even harder. 

Thranduil walks back into the center of Legolas' view and starts to slowly disrobe, making a show of removing his luscious clothing bit by bit, eyes never leaving the ones of his son. Legolas' breath becomes shorter with every new centimeter of creamy flesh that is revealed, and he automatically arches, gravitating towards his father like a moth to a flame. He feels unbelievably hot already.

And then his father is nude. The mattress dips down when he slips onto the bed, like a panther, lying in wait to make his final kill. Then he crawls on all fours, and Legolas can do nothing but lie on his back while Thranduil comes to hover over him, hair falling like a curtain around his beautiful features. Legolas legs spread wantonly to make more room and his father settles between them. The weight and contact of skin against skin, blows his mind. With his heart hammering in his chest, the youth tilts his head and offers his throat to show his submission, and his father takes the hint all too eagerly, bending down and closing his lips over his pulse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, tried to upload this for an hour now....
> 
> I decided to split this story into three chapter's now since the second chapter turned out to be like 9k of filth and I'm not sure how it is with you, but I get bored when I have to read so much smut. XD  
> So I spilt it and will save the final act and their post talk/cuddling for another chapter. :)
> 
> Beta is Malind again! :3

Legolas gasps as Thranduil's lips close around his pulse at his throat. His body arches from the bed to press itself into the warmth of his father's skin. For a second, he wonders if the tales about blood sucking creatures are true, because he is sure, if his father possessed the ability to suck blood, he would do so right now. But then Legolas' mind gets too hazy to think about anything but the wet lips connected to the sensitive skin under his ear, making it tingle pleasantly. Thranduil is glued to his pulse point and sucks a bruise into his white flesh, the pressure sending searing heat through the young elf's body, and he moans lewdly, hands fisting in the sheets of the bed.

When Thranduil is finished, he leans back and eyes his work, his face much more open in his emotions and unprotected, even awed. Legolas has never seen him like this, and his heart beats fast with all the love he is feeling for the other elf in this moment. His father's lips stretch into a tiny smile and the youth's hands itch to touch the soft pockets of skin where his cheeks and lips are joining, but he doesn't dare. He just lies there, panting and shivering. Thranduil's hand then traces over the bruise and from there over the collar, eyes focusing there for a minute, taking in who lies before him. The youth feels the tremor that runs through his father's body. Thranduil is clearly restraining his lust, and it makes Legolas' head dizzy with the realization, that he is wanted so much.

Then the king leans down again, lips grazing the tip of Legolas' ear when Thranduil speaks lowly, his voice laced with arousal, "You are so beautiful in my collar, my little leaf. So exquisite and tempting." His hand travels between their bodies to reach the soft flesh of his son's thighs. "I have to restrain myself very much in this moment." It's spoken so low that it sounds more like a moan than anything else.

The boy gasps, partly from the sensual spoken words and partly from the hand, touching so near his straining member. He wishes he had found the collar sooner. A keening noise leaves his throat and Thranduil chuckles then, moving to Legolas' lips to claim them passionately. His tongue licks out in the youth's mouth while his hand teases between the youth's legs, nudging lightly at his balls and making him moan sweetly into the kiss. Thranduil's hand remains there, stroking the soft skin, while their kiss continues, making Legolas' mind swirl with anticipation and need, cock twitching excitedly. The light teasing feels good, but he needs the hand a few inches higher.

"Ada, please. I need..." His words trail off in a needy whimper when Thranduil closes his fist around him and pumps him languidly. The precum the boy leaks, he smears all over the youth's cock, the wetness adding to all the sensations Legolas is feeling and he isn't able to stop moaning now. The slick noises making his cheeks burn with shame, but he feels too good to care more than that.

"I will take the edge off you," his father drawls while he nips and sucks at Legolas' bottom lip. "And then I will punish you for spying in my private possessions, _ion-nin_ ," he adds darkly and smirks.

Legolas' mind is too far gone already to get the meaning of the words and just enjoys the sensations coming from his cock which get even more intense as Thranduil lowers himself down and lines up beside him. His father's thicker and longer girth now nestles against his own, and the older elf starts to move his hips in a way that makes Legolas see white stars. His father's hand falls away, but it doesn't matter, the grinding movement so much better.

It's a staggering feeling to have Thranduil's powerful body so intimate against his own. The young elf automatically joins in on the movements, rhythmically grinding back his hips until they're moving in perfect synchronization. 

Legolas' body erupts with shivers at the very real prospect of having his father, the king, brandishing a furiously hard erection and a wicked smirk, fucking him within an inch of his life. He doesn’t want Thranduil to stop what he is doing at that moment. He never wants to imagine what it would do to him if they stopped, but it still takes a fearlessness to not think about the consequences of this night. What they are doing will alter everything. But he can't hang on to that thought. Not now. Not with him so close, so lustful. No, he wants everything now. He needs it. He needs so desperately to be owned and to watch this powerful elf come undone while he takes pleasure in him.

Legolas rocks with him, scrunching handfuls of the sheets, trying to think, until Thranduil closes his mouth on his neck again and rids him of his self-control, one wicked suck at a time.  
It doesn't take long until Legolas' vision blurs, his father's closeness and slick body overwhelming, the wet breath that tickles now over the skin of his neck too much. Soon, he comes thickly between their bodies, feeling it even in his toes. It's the most powerful orgasm he has ever had, and it leaves him lightheaded and satisfied. 

When he is through, Thranduil stops his rutting movements and bends down to lick up his son's cum where he painted his stomach. Legolas watches with heavy eyes, drawing in a sharp breath when his father comes up again and kisses him, feeding him his own seed. It's a sloppy, messy, and impossibly intimate thing. Tasting his own fluid seems strange at first, but soon he doesn't care and just craves more of his father's skilled mouth. That mouth lays low even the most powerful of weapons.

Then, without warning, Thranduil stands up and walks to the other side of the room. For a second, Legolas thinks he has been left like this and his father has had his fill of him, but then he watches nervously as the wooden box is taken out of the wardrobe, along with a light gown that Thranduil throws over his body. To the boy's dismay, the king binds it in the middle, hiding his perfect body. Then he walks back, places the box on the drawer beside the bed, and fixes his eyes on the divine beauty in his bed. 

"While I am not entirely without guilt in this matter, I do not appreciate it that you invaded my privacy, Legolas," Thranduil begins and takes a black leather rope out of the box. He sits down on the bed again, and the youth swallows, instinctively curling up on the bed to hide his modesty. Suddenly, he feels very vulnerable under his father's ice blue eyes. 

"I will bind your wrists now and have you bend over my lap, facing down," his father says then and it's spoken in the voice of the king, leaving no room for argument. The eyes of the youth widen but his brain immediately latches onto the order. Disobeying is out of the question. 

"A-Are you going to...to spank me?" Legolas asks shyly, feeling absolutely thrilled by the mere idea, but equally afraid of the pain and humiliation that will come with it. He has never been disciplined by Thranduil in this way. Not even as a child, after playing some ridiculous prank. 

Thranduil considers him for long seconds, then his lips twist into a wicked smile and Legolas can see the gleam in his eyes, like it's one of his secret fantasies finally getting turned into reality.  
"Yes," Thranduil answers and leans down to his ear. "I will enjoy it very much, _ion-nin_. And if you are good," he reaches for one of Legolas' hands and presses it to his rock hard member, making the boy's breath hitch sweetly, "you will get _this_ up your tight rear."

Legolas has no idea how his father does it, but his voice has enough sexual intensity to make Legolas' spent cock twitch back to life in seconds. It's like he is just an instrument and Thranduil knows exactly which buttons he needs to push to make him hot and wanting again. Goosebumps breaks over Legolas' skin when his father takes his other hand and binds his wrists together. It's tight. Not tight enough to hurt, but he isn't able to free himself and the prospect of being completely at Thranduil's mercy makes his body tingle with a beautiful and raw kind of anticipation.

Moving to the center of the bed, Thranduil sits against the headboard and, with a curl of his finger, beckons Legolas to crawl over. It's an awkward movement with his hands bound, but he manages to lie himself across his father's silk clad lap, completely aware of the hand stroking down his back and of his own cock trapped against the other elf's thighs. He mewls when the hands reach his bottom, squeezing him, spreading him, exposing him like no other has ever dared. 

"Safe-word?" Thranduil asks.

"What?"

"Choose a safe-word. If you feel uncomfortable with anything I do from now on, use the safe-word and I will stop immediately."

Legolas tries to think but his head is an empty void, lacking in thought by the orgasm he experienced just minutes ago and the prospect of what is to come. 

" _Caran_ ," he finally answers when his father only waits.

"Useful enough," Thranduil returns and then resumes his maddening ministrations on Legolas' bottom, stroking the cheeks with one hand, while the other combs through his child's hair, suddenly fisting tightly and making the boy gasp with the sudden rush of adrenaline. Then the hand in his hairs slip away and come to rest by his hip.

"What a nice view this is," Thranduil purrs, his voice dripping with sexual energy, making the boy moan and bite his lips, while the king's hand sneaks underneath to cup Legolas' leaking cock. "And what a lustful cock this is." He massages it for a blissful minute, making the youth push into the touch, searching for more friction, but his father is cruel this time and takes the hand away. A dark chuckle sounds, and, in the next second, Legolas is hit by a sharp sting that echoes through his entire being. He jerks forward, yelping at the intense heat the strike leaves on his smooth skin. 

What Thranduil delivered is the first of many slaps. Then another follows and another. Each one is slightly more forceful than the last, the pain mingling with a tingling sensation Legolas feels down to his balls. Ten slaps in and he is a trembling mess, but the best thing of all is Thranduil's heavy breathing, growing shorter with every slap he delivers. The youth feels his straining cock through the fabric of the night gown. It's damp with precum, twitching here and there and making Legolas wish to lie in another position so he can suck and impale his throat on it. He wonders what his father sounds like when he comes. 

"You are doing very good," Thranduil praises, voice wavering slightly. It sends a thrill through the young elf's body to know he is the cause of his father's current state. 

Five more hits follow and are accompanied with squeezing movements to his bottom, like his father needs to collect his self-control after every new slap. 

Legolas is quivering now, the tingling sensation in his balls nearly unbearable. He needs to come, his cock heavy and neglected against the other's thigh.

"You are utter perfection. I wish I could have you chained forever to my bed," Thranduil whispers while bending down to his ear before taking the tip between his lips. He sucks, and Legolas moans hotly at the contact, biting his lips to make them even more red and swollen than they already are. His patience is nearly nonexistent now, and he has no idea how his father is able to control himself when he is clearly so affected. 

"Ada, please. I need to come. Let me come, please," he whines, impossibly aroused, and tries to rut against his father's thigh but is held fast in a punishing grip on his hip. Thranduil just chuckles and gives him three more slaps. Legolas can't take it anymore, tears of frustration threatening to fall and his breathing so ragged that it just comes out in short,frenzy puffs. His head screams to use the safe-word, to make Thranduil stop and impale him on his delicious cock. Just when the first syllable is slipping from his mouth, Thranduil bends down again and nuzzles into his flaming hot cheeks. 

His father calms him with, "Shh... You did so well, _ion-nin_. I am very proud of you." His hand soothes over the red, oversensitive flesh, making the youth flinch from the pain.

And then Legolas is turned over and held like a newborn babe, the position embarrassing him, but when Thranduil leans down every thought flees Legolas' mind again.  
His lips are so soft, seemingly unreal compared to the rest of his hard, defined edges, and Legolas dares to suck on them, needy, nipping them with his teeth to tease out that searing sinister tongue — god, that tongue — not caring what it does to him as long as it's on him. He's done with subtleties and morals. This continued drive into carnal insanity is all he wants.

"Ada...I need..." he tries in between kisses and feels his father smiling against his lips.

"Yes, I know what you need, _ion-nin_. You pleased me very much. I will reward you now."

With that, his father frees his wrists and kisses the visible red lines on his skin. Then Legolas is manhandled to lie on his stomach, while his father hovers over him and reaches for the vial of oil stored away in the drawer. 

Now, the moment is finally here, fantasy and reality joining in a heavy mix of fear and anticipation. He is going to have sex with the elf who made him, and he wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of this fact but he can't. He is too enraptured, too broken already and trapped in his own lust. All he can think about is that he wants his father to fuck him senseless, to fill him with his thick girth and mark him with his royal seed. He wants to be covered in it. If this means he has to live with this shame for the rest of his eternal life, then so be it. 

"Spread your legs, ion," Thranduil says, and the unbelieveable sensual tone in his deep voice, once again, drives every thought out of Legolas' mind and his legs spread like it's the most natural thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caran - Red  
> Ion - nin - My son  
> Ada - Dad/Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> Partly cursive words (the heck A03?) in the beginning are from here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-2jNiVK86A  
> These lines fits perfectly to the dynamics of this fic. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you very much for reading. <3 Please leave some feedback and tell me what you liked or disliked. I try to make it better then!


End file.
